


Home

by Ghost0fWinter



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Baby Dragon, Baby Smaug, Bilbo is basically a father to Smaug, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Sad Ending, Young Bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 13:30:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost0fWinter/pseuds/Ghost0fWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Bilbo Baggins finds an egg in a cave and decides to take care of it until it hatches. Only, when it does hatch, it turns out to be a dragon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I was reading The Hobbit about two days ago and I came upon a passage that had Smaug rolling onto his back for Bilbo. From that, this was born.
> 
> And yes, the beginning two paragraphs have been taken directly from the book. 
> 
> I own nothing. All rights reserved to their original owners. This is purely fanmade and for fun.

In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.

It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with paneled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for gats and coats—the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel would go on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill—the Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it—and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep set round windows looking over his garden and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.

This hobbit was a well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. Bilbo Baggins to be precise. He was a hobbit of simple means, and always enjoyed a late second breakfast in his garden and smoking his pipe afterwards. It was after said breakfast on a late summer’s morning that Bilbo had realized he no longer had any wood for his fires. So, after he had cleaned his late mother’s porcelain dishes and silver spoons, he grabbed a large basket—large for a hobbit—and left his hobbit-hole to gather wood in the forest.

Bilbo always liked wandering the woods, feeling the grass between his toes as he walked the path. He always took great pleasure having the sun shining on his face, watching as the butterflies fluttered from one wild flower to another. It was always rather relaxing, and a change of scenery never hurt anyone.

It took him nearly two hours to wander the forest, collecting pieces of wood for his fires in his large basket. He was walking the path back towards his hobbit-hole, wanting some wonderful tea and cheese cakes, when he heard what sounded like a bird singing over towards his left. Now, Bilbo was never a curious sort, he was a Baggins after all, and a hobbit! But the song was simply marvelous and he wanted to see who it was who sang it.

Bilbo quickly turned from the path leading back towards his home and pushed pass some branches and bushes until he came upon a large opening in the ground, next to a grand oak tree. Bilbo paused and looked around. He had been in these parts plenty of times before, but had never recalled such an opening being there. “How odd,” Bilbo thought. “How did this get here?” He set the basket down by the opening and peered inside slowly. “Hello!” He called, only to hear an echo of his own voice. After a few seconds, Bilbo took a deep breath and took a step inside.

The opening sloped down into the earth, but it wasn’t a terrible slope, and he could easily climb back up. The ground under his feet was warm—unnaturally warm—as if someone had lit a furnace deep in the cave. Bilbo didn’t want to venture too deep, for the cave looked as if it had been clawed out of the earth and would collapse at any moment. But there was something in the cave that tugged on Bilbo’s heart. Perhaps it was his Took side, but after a quiet debate to himself, Bilbo straightened his coat and continued walking through the cave—which was much larger than he had expected.

The deeper into the cave he got the hotter it became, and soon Bilbo was regretting his decision of coming down here. What if there was a wild animal in the back of the cave? What if he slipped and fell into some dark hole? He’d miss his lunch! But luckily for our hobbit, none of those things occurred. Instead, what he found in the back of the cave changed his life. In the back of the cave, in a makeshift nest of rock and earth, laid an egg; a large egg. The shell was a deep vermillion and held splashes of gold, as if an artist came by and took their paintbrush and flicked at the egg with gold paint as if casting a spell. It was the most magnificent and beautiful egg the little hobbit had ever seen, but he quickly realized that an egg that large must mean the mother ought to be enormous. But what creature could have laid it? He had never seen such an egg before—especially not here in the Shire.

Bilbo looked around a dozen times but he found no trace of any other animal. The only animal he had seen was a starling on one of the oak tree branches. But surely a starling could not have laid such an enormous egg, so where was the mother? Had she been killed?  

Bilbo hesitated, but moved closer to the egg. It was half his size and reached his hip—or slightly above his hip to be precise. Bilbo kneeled down on the grass and placed a hand on the smooth surface of the egg; only it wasn’t smooth at all! Each speck of gold was a little bump on the shell; the bigger the speck, the bigger the bump. Bilbo was so mesmerized by it that he jumped five feet in the air when the egg twitched under his palm.

The egg was warm—due to the heat in the cave, Bilbo was sure—but it was gradually cooling down. It had been left here, alone, for long hours now—maybe even days. Now in a slight panic, Bilbo quickly removed his coat and wrapped the egg in it. If he didn’t act the poor creature would never hatch, and if the mother was truly dead, then there would be no chance of it surviving. Now with the egg wrapped up in his coat, he picked it up and moved as quickly as he could towards the entrance.

Getting up the slope to the entrance was a challenge now that he was carrying such a large egg, but after a couple tries (and of course, being extra careful so he wouldn’t harm the egg), Bilbo managed to get them both out of the cave. The hobbit quickly dumped some of the wood he had collected on the ground and placed the egg inside the basket, then proceeded to trying to make it as comfortable as possible. Once done he picked up the basket, carefully for he did not want to accidently drop it and break the egg, and made his way back to his hobbit-hole.

Bilbo tried his best to ignore his neighbors when they greeted him, though a proper “hello!” and “Good morning!” was shared between them; he never answered their questions on what he had in his basket.

Once he was back inside his hobbit-hole, Bilbo acted quickly. He gathered his firewood and quickly started a new fire in his fireplace. He grabbed all the blankets he could find, wrapping the egg in them so it could be warm and cozy by the fire. He left the egg in the basket, deciding it was safer there than on the floor.

Bilbo took care of the egg for three whole months. At first he wasn’t even sure if the creature was still alive inside, but every time he would touch the shell, it would gently twitch in his hand, and after some time he began to feel a pulse. He ran to and fro from the woods, gathering as much wood as he could find (and also searching for the mother, which he never found). He always kept a fire going, keeping the egg as close to the flames as he dared with all the blankets it was wrapped it; he didn’t want them catching on fire and cooking the poor thing alive.

Three months and this had all become rather routine for him. Getting firewood, making sure the egg was warm, breakfast, second breakfast, snack, checking on the egg, snack, smoking outside, lunch, checking on the egg, blowing smoke rings out in the garden, dinner, second dinner, checking on the egg, sleep, and repeat. Of course the little hobbit didn’t outright mind. He had grown rather attached to the egg and was waiting patiently for when it hatched. He wanted to know what was inside.

It was an early September morning when Bilbo heard the first crack of the shell breaking. He had flung himself out of bed, thrown on a robe that had belonged to his father, and dashed down the hallway until he got to the room he was keeping the egg in. The red shell was cracked, and a small snout was trying to push its way out. Bilbo sat in front of the basket, smiling from ear to ear and clapping his hands as he shouted encouraging words to the little hatchling.

Little chirp noises came from the cracked egg, and soon a section of the shell fell off, exposing a small head covered in red scales, two little horns sticking out from the top of the skull and wide bright golden eyes. It wasn’t long before the creature pushed its legs against the egg, cracking it and before long it was crawling out of the shell, climbing over the bundle of blankets and shaking its body off the goo.

Bilbo could not believe his eyes. It was a baby dragon! The hatchling was a baby dragon! The hobbit began to panic; dragons were horrible murderous creatures! And now he had one in his own home! But… it was just a hatchling; a small babe. The Red dragon stood at the edge of the basket, hesitant about jumping down. The creature was no bigger than his arm, and it chirped softly, as if asking for his attention.

Bilbo could not bring himself to hate this creature. He had cared for it for months, and he was not about to cast it out now for what it was. The hobbit quickly moved closer, grabbing a blanket and began to clean the small dragon. Bilbo didn’t know much about dragons; all he knew came from songs and stories of old. They told of the horror and destruction that dragons leave in their wake, but how could anything this small and precious hurt anything?

The dragon chirped softly, jumping off the basket and landing on Bilbo’s lap. It’s wings did not work yet, so it simply curled itself into a small ball on the hobbit’s lap and huffed, liking the warmth the other gave out.

Bilbo could not help but smile at the small hatchling. No, he could not hate the little dragon, nor could he bring himself to part with it.

“I think I shall keep you.” Bilbo said as he stroked the dragon’s head gently, watching as golden eyes fluttered shut, head tilting towards the touch. “And I shall name you…. Smaug.”


	2. Chapter 2

“No—nonono! Put that down! Smaug! I said put it down!”

 

The small Red dragon chirped and dashed behind some chairs, using his lithe body to dart around the legs of the chairs; tangling himself. Smaug let out a small chirp, spreading his wings and using them as a shield to hide behind. Bilbo sighed as he watched the small dragon struggle to untangle his tail and legs, and before long the hobbit had to lift the chair to help Smaug out. Before the dragon could escape, he picked Smaug up and held him against his chest.

 

“Come on now, spit it out.” Bilbo said as he used both his hands to keep Smaug up; Smaug’s red tail wrapped around his left arm as his wings spread wide. “Smaug. I will count to three.” Still the dragon only turned his head away.

 

“One.”

 

Smaug looked the other way.

 

“Two.”

 

Smaug looked up at Bilbo, golden eyes slightly wide as he tried to wiggle out of Bilbo’s grasp. The hobbit tightened his hold on the Red.

 

“Th—“

 

Smaug let out another chirp and opened his mouth, releasing the silver spoon that he had taken from the kitchen. Bilbo let him go and picked up one of his mother’s spoons and began to clean it against his shirt. “I’ve told you time and time again not to take the spoons, Smaug. And don’t roll your eyes at me.”

 

Smaug puffed his cheeks lightly and thrummed, running off to find other things to play with. It didn’t matter how many times Bilbo said something, when it came to shiny objects Smaug had a keen eye for them. Since he hatched things had started to go missing, only for Bilbo to find them in corners of the pantries. Spoons, buttons, cufflinks, pins—anything Bilbo hadn’t hidden away in a chest Smaug would get. It was cute, in a weird amusing kind of way. Sort of like a scavenger hunt. And every time Bilbo would find a new treasure pile Smaug would look up at him with wide golden eyes and hurry to the pile, curling up on top of it, as if he was protecting it from a burglar.

 

Three weeks had passed since Smaug hatched, and his life had changed completely. It had taken a 180 degree turn and he couldn’t be happier. Before Smaug, Bilbo was content, if not lonely. It was the same routine over and over, day in and day out. Nothing ever changed. Lots of breakfasts, lunches, and dinners, and snacks in between; smoking his pipe in the garden, taking care of some flowers, saying hello to the neighbors. But nothing ever changed. Everything was… expected.

 

Since Smaug had hatched nothing was expected. Every day was a sort of adventure. Hobbit’s didn’t do adventure. The Baggins preferred peace and tranquility. But he was also part Took, and the Took’s were known for their adventurous ways. So he allowed himself to enjoy it. He had never laughed so long and hard in his life before Smaug came into it. He had never ran down the hallway, played hide-n-seek, or spent nights telling bedtime stories.

 

He felt whole.

 

Random mischief and broken vases and all. He couldn’t picture his life without the little Red dragon in it—though Smaug would grow to be bigger than his hobbit-hole, but those were worries for other times. Right now he was more worried about Smaug accidently setting fire to his cushions.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It was now the middle of winter and the Shire was covered in a soft white layer of snow. No patch of green could be seen for miles; the trees were now all bare and the flowers either dead or frozen. Each time it snowed Bilbo had to shovel his way out the front door, making a path down to the gate. Snow had covered the benches and tables in his garden and it was hard work to clean them every time new snow fell. Bilbo much preferred the spring and summer, when the weather was nice and warm and the butterflies were out and about and the birds flew overhead and sang their lullabies to each other; he loved sitting out in his garden to enjoy his pipe and eat a late second breakfast and just relax, feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays on his face. But in winter everything was so plain and white and it was hard to stay outside for too long without losing all feeling in his bare feet.

 

 

Although he did not enjoy winter, Smaug was having the time of his life. In the past couple months he had grown just slightly. Bilbo could still carry him, but soon he would bigger than the hobbit. The Red had started to talk as well; it was small things at first—mostly _food!_ and _mine!_ —but what made Bilbo’s heart flutter was his very first word.

 

 

It had been a late autumn evening and Bilbo and Smaug had been outside, lying on the grass of his garden, surrounded by flowers. Bilbo had one arm under his head as a pillow, and the other was stroking the top Smaug’s head. The small dragon was curled up on his chest, purring softly at each caress of Bilbo’s fingers. They had been quiet for some time, simply watching the stars and clouds and moon. It was a soothing night, especially after a long day of chasing Smaug around his hobbit-hole trying to reclaim some of his mother’s jewellery from the clutches of this fearsome dragon. The chase had tired them both out and after supper Bilbo had suggested some time outside.

 

 

It was peaceful and Bilbo couldn’t think of a better way to spend his time, but it was getting late and soon they will have to go back inside for he did not want Smaug to get sick. The hobbit began to sit up, wrapping both arms around a half-asleep dragon when gold eyes snapped open to look at him. A soft thrum left Smaug’s throat as he shifted on Bilbo, then he pressed his front claws against Bilbo’s chest, pushing himself up, and licked Bilbo’s cheek. It was a soft kiss but it brought a smile to the hobbit’s face nonetheless.

 

 

“Come on. It’s getting late and we should get inside.” Bilbo said as he set the dragon down on the grass, then pushed himself up. He stretched out, hearing his bones pop from being in the same position for too long. Smaug nudged his leg and puffed his cheeks; it was clear he didn’t want to go back in yet. “Don’t give me that face. You’ll get sick and I don’t know how to treat a sick dragon.”

 

 

Smaug made a soft cooing noise and grabbed at Bilbo’s pant leg with his mouth, wanting to stop him from going back inside. Bilbo gently swatted at him, pulling his leg away from Smaug in an attempt of dislodging the dragon from his pants; he didn’t want his trousers to be torn, either, so he did it carefully—dragon teeth were sharper than any blade, and he had learned that the hard way.

 

“Come on—Smaug. Inside.” Bilbo said with a stern frown, tugging at his leg again, but to no avail. The Red dragon would not budge. “Smaug!” Bilbo snapped, his voice raising as he turned to look at the small dragon angrily. Smaug quickly released Bilbo’s pants and dropped down so his stomach was pressed against the ground, wings tucked in and tail wrapped tightly around his body as a small whimper passed through his lips. Bilbo stared for a moment before he sighed. He hadn’t meant to scare Smaug, he just wanted Smaug to let go. The hobbit dropped to his knees and gathered the dragon in his arms, pulling him tightly against his chest and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry, Smaug. I didn’t mean to yell.”

 

Golden eyes opened to look up at him and that look alone made him want to cry. Bilbo felt guilty; he should have never yelled at him! Smaug was still just a baby!

 

The dragon pressed his snout against Bilbo’s neck and hid his face there. The hobbit sighed, holding him as he began to walk back inside—that is until he heard a voice. Bilbo stopped and blinked hard. He turned slowly, looking around his garden in an attempt to identify where the voice had come from. It had been a soft cry; almost childlike. But there was no one else around. All his neighbours had gone inside long ago and were asleep. So who—there it was again! A bit louder now! What was it saying? Bilbo strained to hear as he continued to turn in a circle.

 

“Pa... Papa.”

 

Papa? Was there a child that was looking for their father? But where...?

 

“Papa!”

 

Bilbo froze. The voice was coming from...

 

“Smaug?!”

 

The hobbit quickly pulled back, looking down at dragon. His big golden eyes were wide as he stared up at Bilbo; his tail had wrapped around Bilbo’s arm. “Papa!” He chirped happily, leaning up and running his tongue across Bilbo’s cheek two times in a kiss.

 

The hobbit stared down at Smaug for a couple heartbeats before what had happened sunk in. Smaug had called him _papa,_ and that brought a rush of tears to Bilbo’s eyes.

 

That day had been one of the best days of Bilbo’s life—second only to finding Smaug’s egg that day in the woods and watching him hatch. Bilbo had cried that night, and since then Smaug had been calling him papa; each time he heard it, it filled his heart with joy and it made all the bickering and the running around chasing after Smaug for stealing spoons—it made everything worthwhile.

 

Except for maybe right now. Smaug was darting through the snow, rolling around in it as Bilbo stood by his door, shivering into his coat. Smaug dove into a pile of snow and came out with a beard that he was trying to lick off. He kept trying to eat the snowflakes, his wings fluttering as he jumped up to catch them. It was cute, but he was freezing and he wanted nothing more than to go back inside and thaw his feet out by the fire.

 

“Smaug... Smaug, it’s been half an hour. Come back inside.” Bilbo said as he watched Smaug dive back down into the snow, red head peaking out slowly.

 

“Play!”

 

“You’ll play later, now come on.”

 

“Play!”

 

Bilbo sighed and moved his feet, trying to get his blood flowing again. Smaug crawled out of the snow and shook his body. He sat there for a moment before he sneezed, a spray of flames melting the snow in front of him. Bilbo stared in shock, then quickly moved to him and picked him up. “Alright, in you go.” Bilbo said as he hurried inside, Smaug’s whines falling on deaf ears.

 

The hobbit hurried to the fireplace—thankful for the warmth and the feeling now returning to his toes—and set the dragon in front of it. Smaug was shivering but he still wanted to go outside and play. “Stay put, Smaug.” The dragon opened his mouth to protest only to receive a stern look from the hobbit. Smaug laid down on the carpet in front of the fireplace, curling up and trying to ignore the chill he felt.

 

Bilbo ran down the hallway and towards one of the rooms he used to store his winter clothes. He searched through each wardrobe until he found what he was looking for—a blue scarf. Everything else was too big for Smaug, and the dragon had burned half of his blankets. Rushing back to Smaug’s side he slid to a stop and sat down next to him. Bilbo wrapped the scarf around Smaug’s neck and smiled at the sight.

 

“Papa.” Bilbo tilted his head slightly as Smaug bit on the ends of the scarf, pulling it close. “Mine!”


	3. Chapter 3

"Good. Now say 'ah'. Open wide."

"No!"

"Smaug!"

The dragon turned his head and gave a huff. He was wrapped in three layers of blankets and the blue scarf that Bilbo had given him. Bilbo wasn't an expert, but he figured that a sick dragon wasn't good, and talking care of the problem fast would be the best choice. But, how does one deal with a sick dragon? 

"No! Don't wanna!" Smaug huffed again, curling his head down so he could hide in the folds of the blankets. With a deep sigh, Bilbo set the hot bowl of chicken soup down and crossed his arms over his chest. The question wasn't how to deal with a sick dragon, the question really was, how to deal with a sick and stubborn dragon that keeps burning a hole in all his clothes and blankets every time he sneezes? 

"Smaug, come here." Bilbo said after a moment. At first, the dragon didn't stir, but slowly he peaked his head out, then he crawled out from under the protective layers of blankets and crawled to Bilbo, settling on his lap and curling up again. His wings were tucked neatly at his side, and he settled his head gently on Bilbo's arm. Golden eyes opened to look up at the Hobbit. 

"Papa, don't want soup." Smaug said as he shifted positions, resting his head on Bilbo's shoulder. The Hobbit gave a heavy sigh and wrapped his arms around Smaug, holding the dragon closer. 

"Alright. No soup." 

"Can I sleep with papa today?" 

Bilbo smiled softly--it was a smile that only graced a man when his most treasured person spoke; a smile Bilbo never truly held before until Smaug. "Yes."

 

~...~

Two days later, both Hobbit and Dragon sat in front of the fire place. Smaug was settled in Bilbo's lap, and both of them were wrapped tightly in two blankets. It appears that sleeping with a sick dragon, also made the hobbit sick. 

"Fire's going out." Bilbo muttered as he pressed his face against the folds of the blankets. There was movement from under the blankets and a moment later, Smaug's red head poked out. It took a second, but the moment he sneezed, a stream of fire shot out and lit the fire place again. "G'boy." 

~...~

Two months had passed since our small Hobbit friend had gotten sick. The winter months had not been kind to him; having to run around the woods all day trying to find more firewood, all while having to care for a sick baby dragon, his own sickness, and the fact that his feet were freezing over because of the snow--this was not Bilbo's idea of a good time. And when Smaug was being especially stubborn Bilbo just wanted to call it quits. Hobbit's are not suppose to be having adventures of any kind; they were not meant to take care of baby dragons. But when Smaug would show up later that night in Bilbo's room, dragging that blue scarf he has claimed as his own behind him, and crawled into his bed, well it was things like this that made everything worthwhile. 

Two months and now the winter season had ended and spring was beginning to take root. Smaug had grown, and thankfully had begun to mature. He was still but a baby, for he was barely a year old, and he was already Bilbo's size. If Smaug stood on his hind legs he would be a bit taller than Bilbo, but standing on all four, he reached Bilbo's neck. And yet, the dragon still thought he could sit on Bilbo's lap, or tackle him to the floor when Bilbo came home from the market. But the spring was here, and that meant one thing: flying lessons. 

Bilbo knew that, as a dragon, Smaug had to learn how to fly, but he wasn't sure if Smaug was suppose to be taught or if it was instinct for them. Did he require to be pushed out of the nest to learn how to fly like birds did? Or did he just one day flap his wings and take off? Instead of sitting by his fire place and pondering these things, he decided he wanted to help teach Smaug how to fly. He was a Hobbit, and even though they could not fly, he still knew the basics of it; he has read all there is to read about birds and animals. 

It was a warm Sterday in Astron when Bilbo had decided to start teaching Smaug how to fly. He had prepared a large breakfast--watching Smaug all but devour his plate--before he had a quick smoke in the porch. Just because he had a son now did not mean he was going to completely break his routine. He enjoyed smoking outside and making smoke rings, especially when Smaug laid by his feet and tried to make bigger ones. What could be better than that? After their second. but light, breakfast Bilbo took Smaug into the forest. He had to be rather sneaky about it since his neighbors would be on the look out for anything out of the ordinary so they could gossip. He knew that he would be taking a risk in bringing Smaug into the forest, but he couldn't teach him to fly in the garden, everyone could see them. Bilbo also knew that the moment the other Hobbits found out that there was a dragon in the Shire, things would not go over well. 

They now stood in the middle of a large clearing. Bilbo folded up the blankets he ha used to hide Smaug and set the aside, under a tree where a nightingale sang. Smaug was running around and chasing butterflies. He didn't have this much space at home, and it made Bilbo feel guilty to know that. His Hobbit-hole was small and meant for a hobbit, not a growing dragon. The more Smaug grew the less space the Red had to run around in. 

"Papa! Papa, look!" Smaug shouted as he popped out from a bush; flowers had gotten tangled in his horns and butterflies were now surrounding him. Bilbo laughed and shook his head as he sat down on the grass; might as well let the dragon play for a while before the lessons began. Smaug kept the flowers on his head, laughing and rolling around in the grass as other small animals came out to play as well. Bilbo watched from his spot next to the blanket. A part of him knew this could't last forever--where would he even keep Smaug? The dragon would grow to be bigger than anything in the Shire, and Bilbo would be the size of one talon. But for right now, things were perfect. Bilbo was the happiest he had ever been in his life, and seeing Smaug laugh and play and call him 'Papa' was all he needed right now. One day he would have to let the dragon go, and like every parent, he will be sad about watching his little boy leave the nest, but he would be the proudest Hobbit to have ever lived. 

"Papa, what are we doing here?" Smaug asked after half an hour of playing what seemed to be hide-seek with a couple of squirrels and a rabbit. Smaug made his way over to Bilbo and flopped down in front of the hobbit. Bilbo smiled brightly and began to pull the flowers off Smaug's horns, setting them aside. He could make a flower crown for Smaug later with these. 

"I'm going to teach you how to fly." Bilbo said after he was done with making a pile of leaves and flowers. Smaug's golden eyes went brighter at the mention of flying. He was old enough now to use his wings, which meant that he could start learning how to fly. Quickly, Smaug stood back up and began to bounce up and down; he grabbed Bilbo's sleeve with his teeth and began to tug him towards the center of the clearing. 

"Come on, Papa! Come on!"

"Okay! Okay!" Bilbo laughed as he was dragged, stumbling over his feet a couple time from the excessive bouncing from the excited dragon. Bilbo stood next to Smaug and stroked the top of his head, right by his ears just where he knew Smaug liked it. "Stretch out your wings--Woah! Hey! Careful!" Bilbo ducked and laughed, covering his head as Smaug spread his wings and nearly taking off his head. The wingspan was twice the size of Smaug's body already. 

"Sorry, Papa." Smaug said as he quickly tucked his wings back in. He pressed his snout against Bilbo's cheek. The hobbit smiled softly and pressed a soft kiss to the dragon's snout. 

"It's okay. Just be careful. Now, I want you to spread your wings and practice moving them." Bilbo spread out his arms and began to flap them slowly, as if he was about to fly as well. "Like this."

Smaug watched Bilbo for a moment before he took a couple of steps away from the hobbit and spread his wings out again. He began to slowly flap them; at first it was slightly difficult and he had to concentrate on moving them, but it wasn't long before he could do it without even thinking about it. 

"Good. Okay, now I want you to go over to that tree, and start running towards me. Flap your wings like that while you do so." 

Smaug nodded and headed over to the tree where the blankets were. He stretched his wings out for a moment before he started to run, flapping them as hard as he could. The first try nothing happened; the second, Smaug got off the ground for a second. The third try was when it happened. He got enough speed and momentum to push himself off the ground and before he knew it he was in the air and flying over Bilbo's head. He heard the hobbit laughing and yelling words of encouragement, but all that the little dragon could feel was the wind under his wings and the freedom of having nothing under his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long. I no longer have a laptop to write this in, so I'm using either my phone or my iPad. So I am apologizing in advance for any mistakes.
> 
> On another note, this story is coming to an end soon. Thank you all for being so patient with me and for sticking around even though it's taken me so long to update.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this has taken me so long to update. Life got a little hectic, but now we're almost done. I hope the wait was worth it, and thank you all for sticking around!

Every weekend, when all the Hobbits were inside enjoying a long meal and not outside working the fields or doing the laundry or saying hello to their neighbours, Smaug and Bilbo went out to the clearing and Smaug got a chance to spread his wings and fly over the trees and inside the clouds. He sometimes flew so high that Bilbo began to worry he would simply disappear and never return. Sometimes Smaug would laugh and fly over the clouds and away from the Shire and Bilbo’s heart would be lunged in his throat with fear; what if his baby boy left? He wasn’t ready to let the dragon go. But then Smaug would come back and fly directly at Bilbo, crashing into him and sending them both rolling into the tall grass, laughing so hard that tears began to roll down their cheeks.

Spring gave way to summer, and summer gave way to autumn, and soon enough it was Smaug’s birthday. The Red knew how to fly and how to breathe fire properly—now he could control it and would no longer set furniture on fire, much to Bilbo’s relief. He had grown bigger than the Hobbit now, maybe by a foot, and could no longer sleeping the bed Bilbo had made for him when Smaug had first hatched. Instead Smaug now slept with Bilbo on his bed, even though there were enough rooms and beds for the dragon to take. Bilbo didn’t complain though, nor did he bother to kick the dragon out. He liked having the dragon curled up beside him on his large bed, and sometimes he would wake up with one of Smaug’s wings draped around him to shield him from the morning light. It was a comfort more often than not, to have that warm body pressed against his. He had gotten so used to being alone after his parent’s passing that the reminder of another presence next to him made his sleep much better.

Now, the Hobbit was unsure how he would ever celebrate a dragon’s birthday—do dragons even celebrate birthdays? He couldn’t throw a party and invite people over, that would be a terrible idea and would end poorly for everyone. It would have to be just the two of them, but he wanted to do something special for the dragon. What could he do? Smaug had turned into his world, but his world was limited to the forest late at night in the weekends, and the small hobbit-hole they lived in. He had a week to plan something special for Smaug, and he was stuck. What could he get Smaug?

The dragon loved things that sparkled and shined, but he had already collected all there was to collect in the hobbit-hole; all that Bilbo had allowed him to, anyway. He still protected his mother’s silver spoons and other objects closely; the dragon thought he was sneaky and would try to open the chest Bilbo kept the spoons in. He still thought he was small enough to hide under chairs and tables. When Bilbo would yell at him the dragon would hurry to hide under the dining room table, knocking it up and over as he tried to make himself as small as possible. The sight was comical, but it was those big golden eyes that Bilbo couldn’t ignore; he could never stay mad at him. Of course, not that he wanted to ever be mad at Smaug. He was his son, for whatever that was worth, and he would love him for the rest of his life.

The night before the date of Smaug’s birthday, Bilbo made sure the dragon was put to sleep before he was slipping out of his home and down the hill and into the woods towards the clearing they had claimed as theirs. He carried a basket full of small lanterns tied together with string, along with other little decorations he had been working on for the pass month. It was hard to do so, especially since Smaug liked to curl up at his feet and gnaw at his wooden toys. But, luckily for Bilbo, he had managed to find the time and the hiding place to keep all of it, and now he hoped that the Red wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night to find him gone—he had a lot of work to do tonight in order for everything to be perfect tomorrow. He wanted Smaug to have a great birthday; because what better way of celebrating the first day they met than with their own small party?

Once he was at the clearing, Bilbo set the basket down on the grass and began to pull the small lanterns out. He also grabbed the step stool he had taken from the kitchen and used it to give himself better height as he flung the lanterns into the tree branches. It took him quite a long time to finish surrounding the area with lanterns, and even longer to light them all (since they had enough oil in them to last for at least two days), but once it was all finished, the flickering lights twinkled like stars. Bilbo was quick to continue setting up, tossing the dragon paper cut-outs around the tree branches and smoothing out the blanket that he would use for their meal. Tomorrow he’d bake the cake and the pastries, and then they’d have their party.

Satisfied with how everything looked, not that there was much to do to begin with, Bilbo gathered the stool and the basket and hurried back to his hobbit-hole. There was a slight skip in his step, and even he couldn’t deny the excitement in his heart. Tomorrow would be the best day in both their lives—well, maybe the second best day for the hobbit; second to the day he got Smaug. The moment Bilbo returned to his hovel and slipped into bed, Smaug curled up against him and placed his head on Bilbo’s shoulder. The warmth from the dragon lulled Bilbo to sleep in seconds.

* * *

 

“Papa! Papa!”

Bilbo groaned softly and rolled onto his stomach, burying his face under the soft plushed pillows to both block out the sunlight that was coming in through the windows and to muffle the voice that was shouting in his ear.

“Papa! Get up! We’ll miss first breakfast!” Smaug thrilled, bouncing on the bed until he had the hobbit bouncing along with him.

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile, and eventually he rolled from under the protective cover of his pillows and laughed. “Okay! Okay. I’m up. I’m up!” The hobbit patted Smaug’s chest. “Now stop bouncing. You’ll break the bed.”

Smaug huffed and quickly jumped off the bed. His talons scraped against the floor as he ran towards the door, pushing it open with his head. “Food! Food!”

Bilbo watched the dragon trot out of the room and down the hall, his wings tucked neatly against his back so he wouldn’t scrape it against the wall. Bilbo’s smile only grew brighter as he recalled what day it was, and he was jumping off the bed and throwing on some clothes.

That morning was spent as usual—they had their breakfast and enjoyed some time to relax, then quickly had their second. While Smaug napped before the fireplace in the sitting room, Bilbo got to work on the cake and pastries. He worked tirelessly and was quickly rewarded with his hobbit-hole smelling of sweets. He was quick to hide the pastries in the basket, far away from anywhere Smaug could get to, and then focused on decorating the cake. It wasn’t big and extraordinary; it was a two layer vanilla cake, with some fudge in the middle and frosted over with a nice shade of red to resemble Smaug’s scales. With yellow, he wrote out _Happy Birthday, Smaug!_  and decorated the surroundings in blue. It was a rather colourful cake to say the least. And he finished it just in time.

Quickly hiding it in the basket just as Smaug trotted in, Bilbo turned to look at the dragon and grinned a little bit. “Had enough sleep?”

“I’m hungry!”

Bilbo laughed and reached over for a bowl of some extra pastries. “Here. I made this for you.” He said as he set the bowl on the table; Smaug was big enough to reach it without a problem now. The dragon was quick the devour the cookies in the bowl, licking at the crumbs when they were all gone. Watching the dragon scurry into the pantry, Bilbo narrowed his eyes a little before a laugh escaped him. “Don’t eat too much!”

* * *

 

The sun had set over an hour ago and Bilbo was getting ready to take Smaug out to the clearing. He wore his very best outfit, smoothing out his coat and tunic, then turning to look at the dragon who was curled on the mattress of his bed. “Come! I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Smaug lifted his head and tilt it to the side in both curiosity and confusion. “Are we going somewhere, Papa?”

“We are. Now come along.” Bilbo made his way out the door and down the hall, listening to the talons scrapping at his floor. He felt Smaug’s head on his shoulder and the dragon’s hot breath on his cheek.

“Where are—“

“Hush! It’s a surprise!” Bilbo laughed, moving into the kitchen to grab the basket of pastries. They all ready had their first dinner, and the hobbit was beginning to feel hungry again. “Come! Come! Remember to be—“

“Quiet! I know, Papa!”

Smiling at Smaug, Bilbo peeked his head out the door. He made sure there was no one around before he lead Smaug down the path and towards the gate that lead to his garden. He was quick to lead the dragon into the woods, happy that no one was around to see them. When they got close enough that he spotted the lit lanterns in the distance, he paused and looked over at Smaug. “Okay. Close your eyes.”

Smaug tilted his head again before closing his eyes. He leaned down to gently nip at Bilbo’s coat, using that to follow after the Hobbit. When they reached the clearing, Bilbo turned to Smaug and kissed his snout. “No peaking, okay?” Smaug chirped slightly, laying down on his belly and hiding his face with his wings. Bilbo quickly moved over to the blanket that he had laid on the ground the night before and removed the cake, setting it down in the centre. He would glance over at Smaug every now and then to make sure the dragon wasn’t peaking, and only caught his wings moving once.

“I said no peaking!”

“But _Papa_!”

Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh. “No peaking!” He watched the wings move back into place. Bilbo was excited for this. Its been so long since they’ve been together it was hard to believe that Smaug was still a baby. Of course, he’d always be a baby in Bilbo’s eyes.

Once the pastries and the cake and the rest of the food was spread out on the blanket, Bilbo stepped aside and lit the candle that he had placed on the cake. He turned to look at Smaug, smiling brightly and crossed his hands behind his back. “Okay.” He said. “Open your eyes.”

Smaug’s wings moved slowly, his head peaking out as if he was being careful Bilbo would change his mind and have him hide his face again. When nothing came, golden eyes opened once more and looked around. “Woah…” Smaug said as he stood, looking at the shimmering lanterns that made everything glow, and then at the food and cake. His eyes widen in excitement and Smaug was rushing towards his father, tackling him down to the grass and laying on top of him.

Bilbo was laughing, having to shield his face from the incoming attack of kisses Smaug was giving him. “Happy birthday, Smaug!”

A scream drowned out his laughter, and all the joy in his heart suddenly shattered. Bilbo was looking over one of Smaug’s legs to see a hobbit from the Shire, Myrna he believed her name was. Her eyes were wide with terror and soon Bilbo’s own were mimicking the stare.

No. No. No no no no! This wasn’t suppose to happen! They were suppose to be alone!

Smaug slowly moved off from on top of Bilbo and lowered his head, his wings spread wide and his back arched a bit in a threatening stance. A low growl fell from the dragon’s throat as it began to glow a stunning orange that illuminated more than the lanterns could. Myrna was screaming again as Smaug lunged at her, and Bilbo barely had enough time to grab onto Smaug to stop him from attacking.

“No! No! It’s okay! Smaug won’t hurt you—“

It was too late. Myrna was running through the trees, screaming in terror. Bilbo knew that she would tell the whole Shire that there was a dragon, and they would all come. They’d all chase Smaug away—or worse. Bilbo moved to stand in front of Smaug, the glow had disappeared and now golden eyes were wide with fear.

“Papa…”

“Shh…” Bilbo wrapped his arms around Smaug’s neck and buried his face in his scales. Tears burned at the corners of his eyes and he had to take a deep breath before pulling back. “You have to go.”

“Papa—“

“You have to! They’ll come and they’ll chase you away or hurt you—“

“Papa—“

“ _Go_!”


	5. Chapter 5

Life had a way of getting better after a tragedy. Life would get better because that is what life _did_. It’s a series of ups and downs and, eventually, it would come to the good again—at least, that’s what Bilbo told himself.

Before Smaug, his life had been dull. It was a habitual routine: waking up, eating, greeting, eating, cleaning, eating, and sleeping.

He hadn’t even been aware that life was passing him by. 

Then one day he found an egg in the woods. Bilbo had never imagined that an egg would change his life for the better. 

Bilbo couldn’t remember a time where he wasn’t smiling now. He had a _son_.

After Smaug, each day was filled with laughter—and sometimes, yelling at the top of his lungs when the small Red took something he shouldn’t have. He felt joy for the first time in a long time and everything had been perfect. Even breakfast was full of joy. 

Things had been perfect for so long, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when something went terribly wrong.

Bilbo had woken up this morning with the sole purpose of spending the day with Smaug, celebrating the dragon’s birthday and being thankful to have the Red in his life. Not in a million years had Bilbo imagined ending this night in tears. 

Bilbo had only one thing in mind, what any parent would do when their child was threatened: protect Smaug, no matter what.

The Hobbit was running, not looking to see if Smaug had taken his advice and left, or if he had remained where he was. Bilbo simply _ran_ after Myrna, pushing himself as fast and as hard as his legs could go, in hopes that he’d catch up to her before she reached the village. If he could simply _talk_ to her, _convince_ her that Smaug wasn’t dangerous… _maybe_ he’d be safe.

If the others could see Smaug the way Bilbo saw him—for the gentle, and playful, and loving creature he was—they’d all understand that they weren’t in any danger. Smaug would never hurt anyone!

He saw her tousled, blonde hair just ahead of him. Her name was seconds away from spilling from his lips when he watched her trip over a root. Even through his panic and fear, Bilbo knew that he needed to help her. In her state, she could really hurt herself.

Bilbo was moving forward quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Here, let me help--”

“ _No_!” She screamed, flinching away from his touch before realizing who it was touching her.

Her eyes settled on Bilbo, and she was quickly composing herself as much as she could; or as much as a tear stained face and puffy red eyes could manage. Her voice hitched. Myrna was taking a deep breath, pushing herself up and brushing the dirt and leaves off of her dress.

“That was a _dragon_.” She hissed out the word in a hushed whisper, as if saying it too loud would summon Smaug. 

“Yes! Yes, he’s a dragon, but I promise you he won’t hurt you! He won’t hurt anyone!” Bilbo quickly said, holding his hands out in front of him so she knew he wasn’t about to attack her or touch her without her permission. 

“He won’t? It’s a _dragon_!” She snapped back. “They’re evil and vile creatures! They’ll destroy us if—”

“ _No_!” Bilbo quickly interrupted her. “I know that’s what you’ve been told, and that’s what’s written in the scrolls and songs, but I promise! I promise he’s gentle!” 

“It almost tore me to shreds!” 

Bilbo was getting angry.

She was being unreasonable, wasn’t she? She saw a _dragon_ and _nothing_ else. Dragons were made out to be dangerous and terrifying; a death incarnate, but that wasn’t Smaug at all.

“He was just scared, that’s all! You surprised us! _Please_. Please, listen to me.” He was begging now, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it muffled his own words. “I’ve raised him since he was a hatchling. He would never hurt anyone. The only thing he has ever hurt was my mother’s silver spoons.” Bilbo gritted his teeth, trying to make light of the situation but knowing far well that a joke would not be welcomed at the time. “He’s very kind, I promise. He’s just a baby.”

Myrna looked as if she wanted to protest again, but this time she stayed silent. Her eyes darted from Bilbo’s face to the trees behind him, as if expecting to see Smaug lingering in the shadows. When she didn’t see the petrifying orange glow, Myrna seemed to relax a fraction. “Are you certain? How could you be so sure it would never hurt anyone?” 

“I’ve raised him since he hatched. He’s known nothing but love. He’d never even _dream_ of hurting someone.” Bilbo was dizzy. Everything was happening so fast.

She seemed to be calming down. Maybe she’d listen; maybe she’d understand. “It’s his birthday today. _Please_.” His voice had dropped, almost a pleading whisper now. 

Myrna chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers playing with the bottom of her apron. She flicked away dirt that had stuck to the fabric, staring down at her feet for longer than Bilbo would’ve liked. Then, after almost a whole minute of silence, she looked up once more.

“Okay.” She said, her voice as calm as her face now. “Okay. If you’re certain…”

“I am. Yes! I _am_. Thank you.” He tried to keep talking, tried to continue to convince her, but she simply shook her head.

She was tired, Myrna said, and she needed to go home and sleep. They shouldn’t be out this late anyway. The woods were dangerous even without dragons. She laughed then. Even if it sounded strained, it was an improvement from her hysterical screaming earlier.

Bilbo watched her go, standing there long after she had disappeared from sight. 

That could’ve been the end. That could’ve—

“Papa?”

Bilbo turned suddenly, eyes wide and heart caught in his throat.

Smaug was pushing past the bushes, tummy pressed to the ground as he slowly made his way towards the Hobbit.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Bilbo was moving forward, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arms around Smaug’s neck. The dragon all but wrapped himself around the Hobbit, pressing his large head on Bilbo’s back. “I’m _so_ sorry. Let’s go home, okay?”

“I don’t have to leave, Papa?”Smaug sounded so sad, as if the very thought wounded him.

Bilbo wanted to cry.

“No, Smaug. No, you don’t have to go.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

That seemed to make Smaug feel better, because a second later the dragon was pushing Bilbo down and licking him right across his face. 

* * *

Getting Smaug back without being seen had been a bit of a challenge.

Bilbo had stood at the edge of the forest for what seemed to be hours before deciding that the village was quiet enough—that it was safe. They had made it back to his little Hobbit hole in one piece.

Smaug had rushed inside as if staying out in the garden for much longer would harm him. But, in truth, Bilbo could finally breathe once the door was closed. 

He hadn’t even realized he had been holding his breath this long. The fear and worry almost suffocated him. Bilbo had never been more scared than he had been the moment Myrna had screamed.

But everything would be fine. Smaug was safe with him.

The dragon was crawling into bed, his tail brushing the end of the mattress while his head laid on one of the plush pillows. Bilbo couldn’t help but stare.

He almost lost him tonight.

“Papa?”

“I’m coming.” Bilbo was crawling into bed with Smaug, not bothering to rid himself of his coat. Large wings draped around him and Bilbo was already closing his eyes. 

Everything would be fine.

* * *

Bilbo was sure he overslept.

When he had gone to sleep, it had been dark out. There was no sunlight coming in through the window yet. He felt as if he had slept for hours, but why wasn’t the sun out?

Bilbo was shifting, rolling onto his side and pressing his face against the pillow. Except, the pillow wasn’t as soft and comfortable as he remembered; it was hard, and hot, and it kept poking his cheeks. His eyes finally opened and he understood. 

Smaug’s wings were still covering him, shielding him from the sunlight seeping in, and his face was pressed against the dragon’s side.

He thought that Smaug was still asleep. On further inspection, he realized that wasn’t the case. It appeared that Smaug had been awake for some time. And the moment that Bilbo moved, Smaug only curled himself tighter around him. 

“Smaug?” the Hobbit was pressing a hand to the dragon’s throat, simply because he couldn’t reach his head. If Smaug moved anymore, he’d be crawling on top of Bilbo, and while he was fine with that when they were playing around, he truly did not want to be crushed. “Smaug, what’s the matter?” 

“Can we stay here today, Papa?” He asked, his voice softer than Bilbo had heard before. Smaug sounded like a lost child. “I don’t wanna get out of bed.”

Bilbo frowned, shifting enough to be able to sit up and wrap his arms around Smaug’s neck now. “We can stay here, Smaug. We’ll make a blanket fort and eat breakfast under it. How does that sound?”

Smaug purred, clearly on board with the idea. He was shifting his body now, tucking his wings against his sides and climbing off of Bilbo.

The sun was a lot higher than what Bilbo had thought, so his initial reaction of having overslept was true. It’d have to be close to noon now; they missed first breakfast but that was fine. Bilbo would simply make second breakfast _bigger_.

Patting Smaug’s side, Bilbo was sliding out of bed and scowled at how wrinkled and disheveled his clothing looked. His mother would have been so disappointed in him. 

After a quick change and a wash of his face, Bilbo was making his way back towards the kitchen with a hungry dragon following at his heels.

Except, they didn’t get that far. Passing one of the windows, Bilbo could see a whole gathering of Hobbits not too far away from his front gate.

It was likely half the village. They were all close together and whispering to each other. Every now and then, he’d see one of them glance towards his home then quickly look away as if afraid he’d catch them. 

Fear started to bubble in Bilbo’s stomach, and, for a moment, he was sure that he had stopped breathing.

What if Myrna had told someone of what happened last night? 

“Smaug?” 

“Yes, Papa?” 

Bilbo turned to look at the dragon, giving him a tight smile. “Please go into the pantry and pick out what you’d like to have for breakfast today. I’ll be right outside, so when you’re done just head into the kitchen. I shouldn’t be long.”

Smaug’s eyes widened in a panic, rushing forward and taking hold of Bilbo’s tunic between his teeth, keeping him from moving. “No! Papa, you said we didn’t have to go outside today!”

“Shh, shh,” Bilbo stroked Smaug’s head, right on the slope between his eyes. “We’re not, I promise. I just have to see something and then I’ll come right back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Smaug slowly released Bilbo’s shirt. And while he was sure those sharp teeth left holes, Bilbo couldn’t bring himself to care.

He watched as Smaug made his way towards the large pantry by the kitchen, and then continued to wait for a couple more seconds. Bilbo stood in front of the door, staring at the knob on the middle of the wood as if it would bite him were he to touch it. 

_Get it together, Bilbo! You’re a Baggins, but you’re also a Took. Have a little courage!_

Even his own thoughts sounded scared to him.

Taking a deep breath, Bilbo finally gripped the knot, opening the door and made his way down the little paved stone path that led to the gate.

“Hi! Yes, good morning! Or, well, good afternoon!” Bilbo called out to them, cracking the gate open before stepping out.

They all turned to look at him and Bilbo recognized a majority of them. Some gave a curious reply _,_ though Bilbo didn’t feel the same sort of enthusiasm he usually did when they all greeted each other.

“What’s going on here?” Bilbo asked.

The silence that fell was almost as bad as if they would’ve all started to scream at the same time. Each of them looked afraid, being cautious not to get too close to him.

Bilbo was about to ask the question again when one of his neighbors took a step forward. “Is it true, then? … You have a dragon?”

Bilbo felt his heart catch in his throat at the question. Myrna had told someone, and that someone had told someone else. News and rumors spread quickly here in the Shire, though he had thought that he had managed to convince Myrna. She could’ve been acting, he supposed, or maybe the person she told was the one that wasn’t convinced.

Either way, it didn’t matter anymore. 

“I-I… I don’t—”

“Speak plainly, boy!”

Bilbo tried to look more confident than he felt. He tilted his chin up, looking down at the group in front of him.

“ _Yes_!” He could hear their gasps and see the shock clear on their faces. “Yes, but it’s not what you think!”

“Myrna was right."

“There’s a dragon in the Shire?”

“It’s going to eat us!”

They weren’t listening to him. They were all in a panic, all hysterical, and shouting over each other.

Bilbo couldn’t even hear himself think.

“Please, listen to me! He’s not a threat to anyone! He’s only a baby!”

“I knew your parents,” The man who had spoken before stepped forward. “I knew your father and your mother. They were good people. Good Hobbits… Despite the Took bloodline. You _dishonor_ their memory."

He knew that wasn’t true; knew that there was _no way_ his mother would ever look at Smaug and scream in fear. His father would be terrified of him at first, maybe, but neither one of them would ever do this.

But it was the thought that maybe, just maybe, they would have stood in that crowd and looked at him with disappointment that made his throat close.

“It’s not… I promise he’s a good boy. He’s--”

“Papa?”

He didn’t have to turn around to know that Smaug had pushed open the front door. The expression on the faces of the Hobbits before him was enough to tell him.

To an outsider's perspective, seeing Smaug coming out of the house would be a baffling sight, certainly, but there was nothing menacing about him. He wasn’t some ferocious _beast_ that was about to set the Shire aflame.

In fact, Smaug looked like he was about to cry.  

“Smaug, get back inside--”

“It’s true!”

“Dragon!”

They started to scream as Smaug came closer.

The Red stood behind Bilbo, head lowered and eyes narrowed. Bilbo knew that he was simply being protective, but the sight of an angry dragon would only make matters worse.

Smaug then took a step forward, slowly passing Bilbo and moving closer towards the crowd. The Hobbit tried to be quick, wrapping his arms around Smaug’s neck and tugging him away, but it was too late.

They were all scattering, running away from what they feared to be a monster. 

“Smaug, _no_! Don’t—”

A rock came flying through the crowd and hit Bilbo across the head.

The Hobbit cried out, stumbling back and placing a hand over where the rock had hit him. When he pulled his hand back, blood coated his palm. “What—”

“ _Papa_!” Smaug cried out, his eyes snapping quickly towards the crowd in an attempt to find who had done it.

His throat began to glow orange as a deep growl left him. Bilbo had never seen him _this_ angry, not even when he had tried to attack Myrna. Back then, it had been out of fear that he reacted. 

But now?

Smaug was _furious_. Now they were going to get what they thought they knew.

A monster. 

“ _Smaug, no_!”

The dragon opened his mouth as fire erupted from within. The crowd had scattered further now, running away from the dragonfire and attempting to get as far away as they possibly could. The screams were only echoed with Smaug’s angry bellows and the smell of charred grass. 

Tears filled Bilbo’s eyes and he thought about climbing onto Smaug’s back and having him fly them both far away from the Shire. 

But this was his home, and his home was threatening his son.

“ _Smaug_!” Bilbo wrapped his arms around Smaug’s neck again, pulling the dragon’s attention away from the fleeing Hobbits and onto him. “Smaug, listen to me! You have to go!”

“What?” Golden eyes widened and all his anger seemed to vanish, replaced by disbelief. “But, Papa, you promised--”

“ _I know_! I _know_ what I said, and I’m sorry for breaking it! But you have to go! You need to leave!” Bilbo was pressing his face against Smaug’s neck, his tears cold and such a stark contrast to the heat of Smaug’s body. “I love you. Always remember that. I love you _so_ much. But you have to go. You can’t stay here."

Smaug pulled back, staring at Bilbo for a couple of seconds before looking back towards the fire that burned less than a few yards from them.

He spread his wings, pushing himself into the air, only as far as to land on top of Bilbo’s home. Smaug looked back down at Bilbo and the Hobbit could see the reluctance in those gold eyes. 

“I’ll find you again! _I promise_!” Bilbo bit his bottom lip, grabbing the rock that had been thrown at him.

His heart felt heavy. For the first time in his life, Bilbo wanted to go against _everything_ that made him a Hobbit.

He wanted to leave the Shire, to go with Smaug. He wanted so many things, but… 

“ _Go_!” Bilbo threw the rock.

Bilbo knew it didn’t hurt but the sharp cry that left Smaug when it hit his side was still heartbreaking. Golden tears dripped down his snout.

Smaug’s wings spread once more and he was flying. The harsh winds of those beating wings almost knocked Bilbo over. He felt the heat of the flames behind him falter because of it.

Bilbo was dropping to his knees, a sharp sob spilling past his lips as he watched Smaug grow smaller and smaller in the distance. 

“I’ll find you again… I _will_ … I promise…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End.
> 
> I know it's taken me a long time to upload this (like three years or so) and I'm terribly sorry about that. Honestly, my motivation to continue this story was shot down and I simply abandoned it for a while. I'm not sure what made me want to finish it, but here it is. In all it's glory. The ending. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did and I'm thankful for all of you who've read it and stuck around.


End file.
